Sometimes a Cigar is Just a Cigar
by Catalyna
Summary: In a camp such as Stalag 13, any little thing can affect the heroes. Gestapo comes in, man gets transferred...This is especially true when Klink is involved. But, then sometimes in that situation, you are just looking a little too hard for trouble.


This an entry in the 2nd Semi-Annual Hogan's Heroes Short-Story Speed-Writing Competition!

THE OBJECT OF THE GAME: To write a short story, within the time allotted, by using one of five openings provided as your starting line. (Mine was from _Ransom_ by Pearl S. Buck)

**The Beethoven symphony stopped abruptly**. Hogan opened his eyes and strained to hear. He waited a few seconds, then sat up in the rustic bunk, still listening. Hogan had been trying to sleep in spite of the uncommon heat wave they had been suffering through lately, turning the barracks into baking ovens. The Germans had allowed the prisoners to keep the windows open, but since they were still shuttered, it didn't relieve the heat much. Still, it was better than nothing, and they were able to hear the German guards' conversations, along with, unfortunately, Klink's violin. But, now, for some reason it stopped. Hogan wasn't sure to be glad or wary. Apparently, his men felt the same way.

A quick knock at the door proved that Hogan was right.

"Enter," he called out. The men rushed in.

"Colonel, sir, something's wrong! Klink's not playing. Do you think something's up?" asked Carter.

Newkirk edged his way in, explaining to Hogan, "Sorry, sir. I tried to tell him, not to bother you. I mean why not enjoy the quiet while we can?"

"Because you fool, Klink would never stop playing in the middle of anything!" Le Beau cried out. "Never! Something has to be wrong!" The little Frenchman was definitely worked up.

Hogan motioned the men to keep their voices down and went into the larger room. He noticed the men had put up the thin black cloth they used as blackout curtains when they turned on the lights during the times it was supposed to be lights out. He rubbed his chin while he started to pace. "Have we had any guests come in tonight?" Hogan asked.

"Nope," replied Olsen as he shook his head. "Nothing happening. Just heard the guards complaining a few minutes ago on how boring it was, and wished Klink would go to sleep." Olsen was sleeping closest to the window next to the door where the guards usually stood.

Hogan nodded toward Baker and ordered, "Go down in the tunnel and see if Klink's gotten any phone calls."

LeBeau was right. Klink wouldn't have stopped playing in the middle of any song without a good reason, and the fact that his playing was torturing others wasn't a good reason to Klink. So, there had to be something bothering Klink and what ever bothered him would eventually affect the prisoners. But, what was it? Gestapo? General Burkhalter? The general's sister Getrude Linkmeyer? Various plans began swirling in Hogan's mind for every scenario he could think of.

Baker came up from the trapdoor under the bunk Hogan was standing next to. "Kinch says it's been quiet. Last phone call was when Klink called for his car before he went out."

Hogan sat at the table. Maybe something happened when Klink was out of camp? Maybe he should find out from Klink himself. Turning toward Carter who was standing at the door, Hogan asked, "Is Schultz there?" Carter nodded yes.

Getting up, he said, "let's get Schultz in here and try to get to the bottom of this."

Unfortunately, Schultz was as puzzled as Hogan and his men. "Klink was very happy when he returned. I don't know why he would stop playing." The big man's forehead furrowed. Suddenly he brightened, "wait! I saw him take a note from his pants pocket. I don't think he saw me see him read it, but then he threw it in the fire of his stove. After that he went to get his violin." Schultz then looked worried. "Do you think it was something in the note?"

Hogan stopped pacing for a minute and stood in front of Schultz. "Do you know where the note came from? How was he when he was reading it?"

Schultz shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know where the note came from. But after he read it, he was…not happy."

Hogan narrowed his eyes, "not happy? You mean he was angry, sad how not happy?"

Again the big man shrugged his shoulders. "Not angry or sad. Just not happy." His eyes widened as he recalled something. "No, he was angry because I saw him, then he was not."

Hogan crossed one arm across his chest as the other arm came up and the hand held his chin.

"Was I helpful?" Schultz asked.

"I don't know. The note could have come from the barmaid at the Hauserhof telling Klink she didn't want to see him again," Hogan said.

"No, he didn't go to the Hauserhoff. He was meeting some friends in town; the string ensemble he plays with," Schultz replied.

"Maybe they told him they didn't want him to play with them anymore," Newkirk cut in.

"No then he'd be angry or upset," Hogan said thoughtfully. "Not 'not happy.'"

Schultz looked upset. "Sorry I couldn't help. But, I should go before they miss me, Colonel Hogan."

Hogan deep in thought, waved the sergeant away. "You're dismissed, Schultz. Thank you."

Schultz quickly left the barracks, now worried about Colonel Klink.

"What I would like to know is why we are so worried about Ol' Klink. It's finally quiet and we can all get some sleep for a change," Newkirk asked as he yawned. He began to head for his bunk.

"And what happens if Klink stopped playing because he was upset about something; like the Gestapo coming to camp?" Hogan asked quietly.

"Yeah, or he found out he's sick and dying," asked Carter.

LeBeau gave Carter a quick look of disbelief, then added, "or the note was warning him that there were saboteurs in the area of his camp."

"Anything that affects Klink will affect us," continued Baker. "If he goes, we might as well start packing ourselves."

"Yeah," replied Newkirk. "Sorry mates, um Colonel, I'm never at me best when I've not gotten enough sleep and Klink's playin' every night…well, you know."

Hogan nodded. They were a team and it wouldn't help to hold hard feelings. Besides, he had a plan to find out what the problem was. He slowly smiled, "Don't worry about it, Hauptman Neukircher, get some sleep and tomorrow I want you to see Klink."

Newkirk smiled in gratitude that Hogan had accepted his apology, until a thought struck him, "Neukircher? Aw Colonel, why me?"

"Because who else could accompany, General Carterheim?"

Carter's eyes grew, but he remained silent as Hogan outlined his plan.

* * *

Meanwhile, Klink had just settled into bed. He glanced over at his violin. It was almost blasphemous that he was trying to play that symphony so soon after listening to _her_ play it. Remembering her music, Klink couldn't go on. After listening to her, no one could play an instrument without sounding like a scalded cat. She was like an angel. Tall, slim with honey blonde hair, and blue eyes. Eyes so blue they reminded one of a crisp fall day.

She was Herr Eissmann's neice, Annaliese, and a prodigy, only eighteen years old. Klink sighed. She came into his life like a candle flame; burning brightly and now burned out. Too bad they met at the wrong time. She was already engaged to some young Wehrmacht officer. He sighed again. It was just as well that they had just met. There wasn't time for heartache on either side. She was so charming, but he knew right off, she was in love and he didn't have a chance. He just had the once of a lifetime lucky chance of meeting with an angel.

Yes, it was an almost perfect evening, albeit bittersweet, until Schmidt had to give him the reminder that he owed for the tea at the last meeting. He had only one cup! He told them he would pay for it. How could anyone even think of anything so mundane after hearing her play.

When he got back to camp, Klink was angry when he found the note he stuffed into his pants pocket, he threw the note into the fire. He hadn't noticed that Schultz was in the room, but who cared? He burned the offending note, removing the one black spot in the evening.

Klink gave another deep sigh. He would never see Annaliese again. Oh well, he had one perfect evening in his life. Tomorrow would just be another dull day. With this heat, even Hogan seemed to be subdued. Klink rolled over and turned out the light. Yes, tomorrow would be just another day at Stalag 13.

The End.


End file.
